I think my therapist is cross with me, although I most thoughtfully gave her a rather lurid looking NZ sweet to try to soothe her. (This worked for maybe 3 seconds. My therapist is infuriatingly persistent. I spend much of our sessions trying to distract her with colourful anecdotes and interesting thoughts. She always wants to talk about the most depressing of subjects. I’m having to see her pretty regularly, just to make sure she hasn’t succumbed to this insatiable need for gloom).
Anyway, she thinks I should take better care of myself. I disagree, but a few nights ago I found myself eating a green tube of Pringles for dinner (green, because that’s the healthier option). Infuriatingly, my therapist might be right. So, after yesterday’s session (where I would like it to be noted that I was giving away sweets) I decided I must eat better.
I arrived at Tescos. The cashier who once mistook my little brother for my son (and me therefore for the most negligent mother one could imagine) said hello. I thought smugly, ‘Wait till you see what healthy and nutritious items I am purchasing today. That will make you re-assess your opinion of my mothering skills.’ (I’m not sure I have ever fully convinced her that I don’t have any children. Perhaps I should stop buying those delicious Milkybar yoghurts).
I grabbed a basket and strode purposefully along the first aisle. This is an aisle I don’t usually frequent, (because diet coke is on the last aisle) but it was reassuringly green. I started to throw vegetables into my basket. I wandered as close to the other shoppers as possible, so that they could admire my healthy choices. My basket was filled with what appeared to be a thieving frenzy by Peter Rabbit from Mr McGregor’s garden.
I had no idea what meal it would be possible to make from these odd shaped root vegetables. I needed a new plan.
I spotted a very handsome gentleman, standing musingly over a lemon. Perfect. For the rest of my time, I simply followed behind him, and placed into my basket exactly what he placed into his. I probably don’t need soothing-post shave balm, but I’m sure someone will like it. I went home, and created a delicious jumble of chicken and peppers and various other things. (I’m not sure, strictly, that my chap was planning on eating everything he bought that night, but I wasn’t sure, so thought it best to). Really, it was as if I had dinner last night with this very handsome man. I think my therapist will be pleased I’m taking such good care of myself.
unfashionablylost 